


Before/After

by pilates_drunk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Short One Shot, a lil sad a lil sweet, ginny is bisexual and nothing can take that from me, not quite a one shot but almost, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 09:56:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilates_drunk/pseuds/pilates_drunk
Summary: before the epilogue and after the war, there is her.





	Before/After

**Author's Note:**

> this is a super late graduation gift/apology for youreyesinstarsabove on tumblr. i'm sorry i never found you that ginny/luna fic, i hope this can work instead.

After the break-up, the 2am screaming fights (with both your eyes a little too shadowed by friends that will never come back and nightmares that will never go away), the impossible weight of watching the Boy Who Lived turn in to a man who only knows how to survive, after all that darkness you survived, somehow, there is moonlight. 

The soft glow, the gentle whispers. The melodic reassurance that yes, you are seeing things, and no, she can’t see them too, and no one else can either, but that doesn’t make you crazy. The midnight kisses, the herbal teas (which are really so dreadful, you’d much prefer a Butter Beer, or even those horrid coffees that American witch made you drink one sleepless night after you beat her Quidditch team. But she smiles so bright when she picks the herbs from her garden that you can’t bear to let her see you spit them out). Her silver hair, and silver voice, and you never thought you had a type, but maybe you did after all. Maybe you were always meant to fall in love with the best parts of a nighttime storm. His messy hair all dark sky covering a lightning strike, her hair and eyes the color of stars, and always, always the moon gently watching over it all. Not judging, not demanding. Just waxing and waning in and out of it all, existing as nothing but herself, for nothing but herself, and God, it’s so refreshing to not have to be anyone for her in return. Not the perfect only daughter, not the brilliant Chaser, not the little sister underfoot, not even the one the Chosen One leans on. Just yourself, and her moonlight, and nothing else. 

Every after is a before, too. The sun rises after the moon, after all, just like his phoenix rises after the moon-colored ashes. Before his letters, before he grows up, grows into himself and away from the ghosts. Before you slowly start to forgive him, before you write back.

And there are tears, and there are fights again, but less harsh, this time, less essential. There is a child, and then a ring, and then more children, who pick herbs from your own garden and make even more terrible tea that you still can’t bear to let them see you spit out. There’s a team, and young, newly sorted witches asking for autographs with stars in their eyes and a fire in their hearts you know you help keep alive, and before that would have terrified you, but now it makes you burn too, with pride and with a determination to go even further. There are still nightmares, but there are arms to hold you when you wake up, and slowly, the dreamless nights begin to outnumber them. There are new friends—not to replace the old, never to replace them, but to help your heart grow around the patchy, hole-worn bits. There are old friends, who help you remember the holes in ways that make them stop hurting as sharply. There are silver hairs creeping in among the fire and the night, and you thank whatever gods are left to care that you get this miracle of watching some of the ones you love grow old. 

But in the sometime between your before-s and your after-s, there are the memories of that gentle in-between glow, too precious for a Pensieve. Not quite a secret, just something yours. Just you, and her, and a soft glow you keep tucked in your heart, to bring out during moonlit storms.


End file.
